Can Someone Help Me Find The Poem About Taking A Bug Outside, And How If I Were Ever Somewhere I Wasnt

can someone help me find the poem about taking a bug outside, and how “if i were ever somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, I hope someone would gently usher me outside too” but i KNOW thats not the line pls help

Memories, Like Grains of Sand

Elrond and Elros remember their lives before the sack of Sirion.

G, Gen, 1,000 words [AO3]

Elwing-positive (and let's just say 'late for @sindarweek' for good measure) - Inspired by @imakemywings ... and cats. Thank you @polutrope for the beta.

__________________________________________________________

Elrond remembers petting the cats which were ever-present on the docks. Sometimes they would be caught stealing from the fishing boats, but more often they contended with the gulls to feast on the cast-offs, or prowled the grain stores for rats. He would sit with his legs dangling over the dock, a black-and-white cat curled up beside him, and watch into the sunset for the silver sails of Vingilot to herald his father’s return.

Elros remembers the seaweed dishes on the table, now wondering how they came to be such a staple. Neither Doriath nor Gondolin would have had fresh seaweed. He missed it when they were taken by the Fëanorians, and it was only sometimes available during the War.

“Círdan?” Elrond offers.

“I doubt he was helping the cook,” Elros counters.

“But he would have been sending supplies,” Elrond says. He thinks for a moment. “She made better lembas, too.”

“Better than who?” Elros asks.

“Anybody,” Elrond says after a minute rather than admit he does not know who made those they ate during the War.

They fall silent again, toes dangling in the water. The wind is a familiar cold; it is not strong today but is heavy with the scent of the sea. The incoming tide curls around the barnacle-covered piers, bringing little jellyfish with it.

“I remember Mother crying at night, when she thought we couldn’t hear,” Elros whispers.

Elrond nods. He would cry then, too, sometimes. “Or she would be at the window, praying to the Lord of Waters for Papa to come home.”

Elros nods.

Sometimes it was hard to look at the Star and remember it was their father and not their mother. That light was so familiar to them, warm and comforting like her arms had been. It was comforting now, to know his search had finally ended.

“Like the quilt she made us,” Elros murmurs.

“I forgot about the quilt,” Elrond admits, eyes going wide as the image of it springs to mind. “It was green-”

“It was blue,” Elros interrupts.

“I remember it being green,” Elrond says.

“You didn’t even remember it a minute ago,” Elros insists, giving Elrond a playful push.

It had been both, sewn with the many colors of the sea, and it shimmered like the delta at sunrise.

“I suppose it was lost, like everything else,” Elrond says, staring down at the water and wondering how he had ever forgotten it.

Elros says nothing.

“I remember the little model of Vingilot,” Elrond says. “Do you remember Father carving it? He even gave it a sail from a little scrap of the real one.”

Elros scrunches his brow, trying to recall such a thing. He could well recall the ship, but he did not remember a model of it.

“I remember a horse,” he says at last. “It had a little rider that could come off.”

Elrond stills and bites his lip, wondering for a moment if he should say it. “I think Maglor made that,” he murmurs.

“Oh.”

They both fall silent then, for those memories are far too complicated for today. The wind has grown colder and the water is up to their ankles now. The boards of the pier are smooth from years of wear, and Elrond rubs his hand over their surface. So many memories here. He will have cats, he decides. Wherever he goes, he will have cats with fine Sindarin names who will get fat on kitchen scraps and will not need to fight the gulls for their dinner.

“I still miss her so much,” Elrond says, and wipes quickly at the tears which well in his eyes.

Elros squeezes his hand tight and resists his own falling. “Squid,” he says as a distraction. “We had squid once. Maybe more than once, but I remember it once.”

Elrond laughs a little at that. “I don’t think I believed her when she said that was what we were eating.”

“You believed everything she said,” Elros says, though immediately regrets it when Elrond’s face drops.

“I did,” he admits. “But being wrong is not the same as lying.” It had taken him a while to accept that. To accept that when she told them they would be safe, or that their father would come home soon, that it was as much her own need to believe it.

Elrond finally looks back at the charred remains of Sirion. A few homes built on stilts over the water remain, though fallen to disrepair and the elements in the years since. But the rest of the haven is long gone, black and ash among a stone graveyard. Still, they both remember this was where their house once stood, its supports half-burnt, fallen timbers covered with silt and rockweed beneath the waters.

Elros looks up, wishing the clouds would blow away so he could see the sky that night. He remembers laying in the hammock and looking at the stars. He thinks he remembers their father teaching them their names in two languages. How he wishes those memories were clearer, but he is not even sure he remembers what their father looked like any longer.

“You will come and visit, won’t you?” Elros asks finally, the question he has been avoiding asking for weeks now.

Elrond looks horrified at the question. “Of course!”

“You’ll…” Elros chokes a little. “And you’ll tell her I loved her? That we - I - didn’t hate her?”

Elrond can no longer hold back and lets out a sob, hugging Elros. He does not know when he will ever see their mother again, but he promises, he swears on the very Star that sails overhead that he will tell her. Even if it takes ten thousand years, he will carry that message.

He swears it again four and a half centuries later, when he kisses Elros on his brow and promises to always carry their half-cobbled childhood memories with him.

“It was green,” he whispers, if only to see Elros smile one last time.

every time i see those posts like ‘what food from a show did YOU always wanna try’ i go lol none? but i just remembered im a liar

i always wanted the fucking soup brock made in the pokemon anime

a comic about fix-it fanfics

this is canon